Past Trangressions, Present Failings
by NobleIntent
Summary: Grissom learns that a former Vegas CSI, and former lover, is missing. During the turmoil that ensues, an explanation for his current relationship issues is broached. Rated T for some mild language. No flames, please!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with CSI. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Past Transgressions, Present Failings**

Chapter 1

December 21, 2005; 6:07pm

Gil Grissom sat alone in his darkened office, wearing a passive expression. Vivaldi was quietly playing in the background, but Grissom did not hear it.

To an outsider, it would appear that he was absently staring at his jars of preserved specimens, blocking out the hurried activity of his co-workers in favor of a few moments' respite. To a friend and colleague, however, his agitation would be quite clear. Someone far more sage than he had once proffered that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. Tonight, as Grissom sat tormented in his sanctuary, this could not be more true. Although he fought to maintain the appearance of calm rationalism for which he was trademarked, his eyes betrayed him. Inside his heart and mind, a sea of rancor and dread was building. Tranquility would elude him until this latest mystery was solved.

December 21, 2005; 4:16pm

"Are you sure?" Detective Jim Brass asked with a large degree of apprehension in his voice. "When and where was she last spotted?"

"Earlier today at the local mall. Her husband said she needed to finish up their holiday shopping. After she dropped her son off at daycare, she was headed to Hecht's and Ann Taylor. Credit card history indicates that she made purchases at both locations, the last one occurring at 11:53am. Clerks at both stores remember her; apparently, she was the only customer filled with holiday cheer today. Her son's babysitter called her husband when she failed to pick up their boy." The police chief of the Montgomery County Police Department sighed with frustration, clearly concerned about his missing investigator.

"What else do you know?" Brass inquired, alarmed by this unexpected news. Apparently, it was open season on criminalists, past and present. After Nick's abduction last spring, this was the last thing Jim and his colleagues needed to hear.

"Not much else. She's on security tapes leaving the mall, but after that we've got nothing. ADT reports that no one deactivated the home's alarm until her husband arrived a few hours ago, and he reported that none of her belongings are missing, except for her coat, purse, and keys. Her car hasn't turned up yet, either."

"Is the husband a suspect?"

The police chief exhaled quickly, thankful to get this issue out of the way. "No, he's above reproach. He has an alibi for the entire day and there aren't any irregularities in their finances or their phone records. He's cooperated fully, too. By all accounts from friends, colleagues, and family, they had the perfect marriage."

_Yeah, right. There's no such thing._ Jim had been a detective for far too long to buy into that train of thought. He would have to see the evidence for himself before ruling on this premise. "What can we do to help you, Chief? CSI Nichols hasn't worked for us in eight years. We'll be glad to do whatever we can, mind you, but I'm not sure how much insight we can offer."

"At this point, I need to know if she pissed off anyone out there enough that they would hold a grudge for this long and have the tenacity to follow her all the way to Maryland. Old lovers, convicts she helped put away, you know the like. Are any of her old co-workers still there that we can talk to?"

"Okay, yeah, there are still a few around. We can set up phone interviews and start going through her old files to see what we can find. I was her supervisor of record back then and nothing stands out, but it was a long time ago. Gil Grissom, our night shift leader, worked with her closely back then. I'll fill him in on the situation and have him call you ASAP." With that, he disconnected the call and sat back with a grunt. _Damn. Why does this crap always happen to the good kids? How the hell am I going to tell Gil?_

With that sentiment, the supervisor in question poked his head into his friend's office, a smirk gracing his handsome features. "Why do I feel like my ears should be burning?"

With increasing trepidation, Brass waived Grissom into his office and to the closest chair._ No time like the present…_

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**SPOILER WARNING: Pilot, Grave Danger**

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing to do with CSI and, sadly, am not profiting one bit from this endeavor.

**Chapter 2**

Grissom cradled the phone between his right shoulder and his ear. The lead detective for the Montgomery County, Maryland Police Department had been questioning him for several minutes, trying to ascertain what information the supervisor possessed about the missing investigator. Despite his best efforts, Grissom was beginning to lose his patience with the man.

"Yes, I knew her well. I was her mentor and partner. We were close."

"Define close, Dr. Grissom."

"We were colleagues and…companions."

"You mean to say you were…right. And you're how old? Never mind, forget I asked that. Where were you yesterday, Dr. Grissom?" asked Detective Watts, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Grissom sighed. "I was here, working a double shift. I can provide you with multiple alibis, if you'd like. Look, CSI Nichols and I parted on quite amicable terms, I assure you." The officer was merely performing his duties, but his manner was eroding Gil's patience further with each passing moment.

"And someone can back you up on that, right?"

That was far enough, and Grissom decided it was time to express his disgust. "Detective, we were discreet. If anyone even knew that we were…engaged in a social relationship, I would be rather surprised. Listen, I intend to support your investigation in every way so that Colleen can be returned safely to her family in the most expeditious manner possible. My team is currently reviewing each of her old cases to determine if past suspects or convicts may have cause for pursuing her. I will make everyone here who knew Colleen available to you for interviews. I will not, however, endure the crass manner in which you are regarding our past relationship. Now, do you have any specific questions about her colleagues or former cases with which I can provide some assistance?"

"No, _sir_, not at this time. I'll question Nichols' _other _colleagues about their relationships with her and I trust that you'll fax any pertinent information regarding her past cases when it becomes available. Good day, Dr. Grissom." With that, Grissom slammed the handset down onto the phone and then sighed with relief when he realized he has closed his office door before taking the call. Watt's attitude, and his callous disregard for the scientist's feelings, was just one of the issues that had prevented Grissom and Colleen Nichols, nee Patterson, from making their relationship public so many years ago. Their working relationship aside, the age difference was noticeable and disconcerting to some. If someone who did not even know them would react in such an insensitive way, imagine how their supervisors and colleagues would have comeback. No, he needed this part of his past to remain as private as the rest of his life. And that was, quite frankly, a mystery to most.

Meanwhile, the rest of the night shift CSIs were assembled around the conference room table, looking pointedly at Catherine Willows.

"Alright, let's get down to business. We have Nichols' files for every case she worked in Vegas. I say we divide them into piles; one for misdemeanors, one for minor felonies, one for major. Then, we go through each one to see if she had any interaction with the suspects. After that, we find out where the perps are and take it from there. Someone needs to contact her old friends who still live here and get the skinny on her personal digs. Nick, you two were pals, why don't you take that avenue?" Catherine looked expectantly at Nick Stokes, knowing he'd contribute however possible.

Nick looked taken aback. "Yeah, sure. What are we thinking here, though? Colleen was here for two years, and I don't remember a boyfriend being in the picture. She was fresh out of Georgetown and hell bent on leaving her mark. If she had time for that, I'd be surprised."

Gently, Catherine replied, "We all know people have secrets, Nick…see what you can find, ok?"

"You got it. I still know a few of her friends. I'll get right on it." He grabbed his field jacket and headed for the door. Warrick, Sara, Greg and Catherine started divvying up the files, quickly sorting the aging manila folders by level of offense. Too engrossed by their task, no one saw Grissom standing at the door of the conference room, resembling a cat about to pounce.

"Where are we?" Grissom grumbled, the tone and urgency in his voice violating the silence that had overtaken the team. "Have you found anything, yet?"

Sensing that Grissom was tightly strung, Catherine soothed, "We just got started. As soon as we have the files sorted, we'll start looking at possible suspects and where they're spending their time these days. Who's next for phone interviews?"

"Detective Watts is going to call back shortly. He needs to talk to you, Warrick, and Nick. As soon as you have anything that could be a lead, I want to know about it." His voice steady and low, Grissom glowered at his subordinates before leaving the room as abruptly as he entered it. With over 200 cases on the table, they all knew that time was of the essence, if someone from Vegas even had anything to do with this latest abduction. Since Nick's abduction last spring, everyone at the crime lab was uptight about news of CSIs missing, wounded, or killed in the line of duty. Sure, they all understood that something could happen at any time out in the field, but that didn't help them to discount the nervousness that such news stirred. Still, something about Grissom's demeanor struck a dissonance in Sara.

Looking bewildered, she decided to take a chance that one of the others could fill in the blanks. "Would someone care to bring me up to speed? I know Patterson, Nichols, whoever she is, worked here for a few years, but wasn't that a long time ago? I've never even heard about her before now. What gives?"

This time, Warrick jumped into the conversation. "Colleen was a nice kid, cute, came straight from college and a few FBI internships. Brass handed her over to Grissom, and he kind of took her under his wing. She was sort of like a protégé to him. Anyhow, they spent a lot of time together in the field and the lab. After she went back east, he just wasn't the same. She had a spark, you know, nothing seemed to bring her down and…I dunno, maybe Grissom needed that as much as she craved his guidance." His voice lowered, respectfully. "Holly Gribbs replaced her, you replaced Holly…Colleen kept in touch for a while, but I haven't heard anything from her in a couple of years. She and Nick were close, too. You may wanna ask him."

"Yeah, thanks…" Sara's curiosity was merely piqued more than before. For her, this information simply raised more questions. Not that she understood Grissom well, but she just didn't see how someone he mentored for a few years nearly a decade ago could raise that kind of a reaction from the man of stone.

**June, 1995**

There was a jovial air in the break room as Grissom, Catherine, Warrick, and Nick sat, awaiting the arrival of Captain Jim Brass. Good natured banter flowed between the team members, who were long accustomed to their humorous exchange of jibes and barbs. Brass was unusually late for their nightly briefing and assignments, leaving them to wonder if they should just get to work. Just as Grissom opened his mouth to suggest just that, Brass swung open the glass door and breezed in, a cute brunette fast on his heels.

"Ok, folks, sorry I'm late. Gotta new face with us tonight. Colleen Patterson, this is the rest of the nightshift team. You can introduce yourselves personally on your own time. Where do we stand on existing cases?" With that perfunctory introduction, both sat down; Brass at the head of the table, Colleen taking the empty chair next to Nick. Smiling brightly, she locked eyes with Dr. Gilbert Grissom before bashfully glancing away.

"Sounds good. Alright, Grissom, I gotta DB on the strip, suspicious circs. Take the new kid with you, teach her everything you know. Nick, Catherine, there's a B&E on Catalonia. Warrick, stick with your current case. Any questions? Good. Get outta here."

Although she was trying to exude a calm professionalism, Colleen Patteson was grinning like the kid who just raided the cookie jar without getting caught. She glanced around the table, anticipation seeping from her pores. Catherine finally broke the silence and introduced everyone, with each member nodding or waving their hello. When she got to Grissom, he extended his hand, smiled, and then jerked his head toward the door. "You heard Brass, let's get to that DB. Do you have a kit, a weapon, and a locker?"

"Yes to all three. You'll have to take a look at my kit. I prepared it based on FBI lab requirements. I hope that's ok." She glanced nervously at her new mentor, hoping to pass the first test.

Grissom looked her over thoughtfully, recognizing the same eagerness in his new pupil that he once possessed himself. In some regard, she reminded him of Catherine when she first transitioned to the field. Her file spoke volumes as to her intelligence, determination, and ambition, typical of other CSI level 1 candidates, but her personality was unexpected. And refreshing. "I'll take a look at it when we get to the scene. You can use whatever you need from mine if you don't have it. Tonight, just concentrate on taking notes and pictures, and stay close. I'll let you know what else I want you to do. If you have questions, ask. He who hesitates is lost. My Tahoe is out front; stow your gear in the back and we'll get to work."

Colleen had the good grace not to squeal, but her delight was evident in her eyes and smile. Smirking, Grissom privately acknowledged that he liked the new kid already.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: To those whom have reviewed, thank you! Disclaimers and spoiler warnings are noted in previous chapters.

**Chapter 3**

**Present Day - the Eastern Shore, Maryland**

_Pain. I'm in pain…_These were Colleen's first conscious thoughts as she tried to focus her eyes in the dimly lit room. Everything hurt. Mentally, she took stock of her physical condition, what she could feel and see of it, anyway. Starting at the top, she had a throbbing headache, probably emanating from the large knot she could feel on the back of her head. Her vision was blurry…had she been drugged, or simply knocked unconscious? Her shoulders met resistance as she tried to move her arms, which were numb, and was that the sound of metal clinking? _Damn. Handcuffs. But handcuffed to what? A bed? _Next, she tried to move her legs, which were mercifully free. At least she could kick her attacker if he dared to get close enough.

Using her abdominal muscles to pull her body closer to the top of the bed, she realized that her body was slow to respond to its own signals. Lethargic and achy, now she was certain she had been drugged. She started recalling her last clear memories; kissing Brian goodbye, dropping William off at daycare, entering the mall, shopping for the last few things on her Christmas list…and opening the trunk of her car. That was when it must have happened. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, _she thought. _You never open your trunk when you're alone in an empty parking lot. How many times have you told your friends the same thing?_ Knowing more about how to prevent oneself from becoming a victim than most, Colleen beat herself up for what she deemed a careless mistake. Finally, she noticed that her watch, the one Gil Grissom had given her for Christmas nine years ago, was missing. _My God, how long have I been here?_

She scanned the room once more, trying to glean more details about her prison using her usually keen skills of observation. Her vision still blurry and the light still very dim, she thought she made out a door on the other side of the room, next to a large bureau or dresser. At least she could see the door. She tried to look behind and to the left of her, but the light was too poor and she realized her peripheral vision had been limited by her head injury as well. Unfortunately, this prevented Colleen from noticing a small door opening there, and a man entering her room. His movements were so small and quiet that they failed to register in her murky consciousness, allowing him to catch her completely unaware as he injected her numb and tingly left arm with a syringe of clear fluid. Before the forensic scientist caved into its hypnotic power, one last clear thought registered in her mind.

_Where the hell am I? _

**Las Vegas, 11:43 am**

Gil Grissom slept fitfully in his darkened bedroom. Despite his fervent attempts to remain at the lab, Catherine threatened to have Nick and Warrick carry him out and drive him home if he didn't leave on his own volition. The migraine that had plagued him earlier had receded, only to be replaced by dreams. On another night, these same imaginings would have filled him with warmness, fondness and, possibly, loneliness and regret. Tonight, however, his subconscious was filled with anxiety and dread. As the minutes ticked by, so did the visions.

_Sitting side by side in the break room before nightly assignments, casting smiling glances at each other while bantering with the rest of the team. Laughter, hers, and amusement, his, at something Nick said…and her reaction. That laugh, the way it lights up her eyes…it does something to him…makes him feel alive… Then, hoping to get into the field with her tonight. Brass assigning them to a DB across town and riding together in his Tahoe. Satisfaction and anticipation, or anxiety? _

_Long auburn hair sweeping against his arm as he studied a body at a crime scene. Sharp brown eyes focusing on his, conveying…longing? No, not possible…too young, too beautiful… interest, in his knowledge. Yes, that's it. He can teach her and she's waiting for tonight's lesson. Hands briefly touching as a bindle is passed, sparks flying from his skin. Wonderment, denial, fear. _

_Shots fired, diving to cover her, protect her from the suspect who has returned to the scene while they were processing. Where the hell is that officer, anyway? Scrambling for his gun, pointing it above the suspect's head, pulling the trigger to scare him off. Relief when he runs for it, the officer knocking him down in the yard and cuffing him. Holding her as she shakes, breathing in the scent of her hair, her soap, her. Dreading letting her go, loss as she backs away._

_Nick lying in a Plexiglas coffin, covered with ants, screaming. "Get me out of here!" Pulling him from the dirt, flinging him onto the ground. Turning him over…wait…he's…she's…no, no, no!_

Grissom startled awake, the last episode still fresh in his mind. He tried to shake the vision of Colleen's filthy, pale, and lifeless body from his mind, but to no avail. Rattled, he shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee and call the lab, hoping there was some new information on CSI Nichols' case. When no one answered their cells, the entomologist turned on his television, giving the dust collecting device some rare use. From the kitchen, he heard a report that made his blood pressure spike and his headache return.

"And a gruesome story from Rockville, Maryland, that may strike a cord with some of our viewers. 32 year-old Colleen Nichols, a crime scene analyst for the local police department there, is believed to have been abducted from a mall parking lot sometime yesterday morning after finishing her holiday shopping. CSI Nichols, then Patterson, worked for the Las Vegas Crime Lab nearly eight years ago. It is currently unknown if this attack was random or related to her work. You may remember the abduction of CSI Nick Stokes, who was kidnapped from a crime scene in Vegas last spring and buried alive. He was rescued; let's hope the same fate is in store for the latest victim. Chuck, back to you."

Grissom snapped the television off in a fury, disliking the media and the heartless way they reported the news. He hoped that the media back east was using a much gentler approach in its reporting of the story, sparing Colleen's family any more anguish than they had already suffered.

**Meanwhile, at the MCPD in Rockville, MD:**

"Detective Watts, this just arrived for you." The attractive secretary deposited the white envelope, messily addressed, into the investigator's hand and retreated to her desk. Watts studied it briefly, taking note of the lack of return address and the postal mark from the day before at a town across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Suspicious of the delivery, he removed a pair of latex gloves from his desk drawer and snapped them onto his hands. Using a letter opener, he slit the top of the envelope open and gingerly removed the note.

The cut and paste letters immediately caught the detective's attention. He grabbed a plastic evidence bag lying nearby and slipped the letter and envelope inside, preventing any further contamination. Then, he called Joe Franklin, Colleen Nichols' supervisor, and his partner to the third floor conference room. _She will feel my pain_, it read. There were no other words or a signature, but a picture of Colleen, in what he assumed was the trunk of her car, was taped to the page. Based on the photo, she had been knocked out, tied up, and gagged. _She will feel my pain. Holy hell…_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I made a few little changes in dialogue between Grissom and the OC in this chapter. Someone gave me some very good constructive criticism and, after I reconsidered it, I decided they were right. Ch. 5 will be up by Friday.**

**Chapter 4**

**December 22nd, Rockville, MD**

Brian Nichols was losing his mind and his temper. "What do you mean you have no leads? She's been missing since yesterday! What have you people been doing to find her?"

Sitting across from Colleen's husband in his lab office, Joe Franklin tried to calm him down. "Brian, I didn't say we have _no_ leads. We have a few good clues that we're analyzing very carefully. We have the postmarked note and picture, which we're dusting for prints and checking for DNA. We're questioning postal personnel from the area where it was mailed. We're going through her files to see if anyone she's helped put away would have the means and opportunity to take her. The people in Vegas are doing the same. We'll find her; it's just going to take a little time."

"Tell that to her two year old son, who doesn't understand why Mommy didn't come home last night and who will wonder why she isn't there on Christmas morning!" Joe felt the sting of Brian's tirade and took it personally. Two years ago, after William Nichols was born, Colleen had wanted to quit the MCPD Crime Lab in order to raise her son. Now, despite all of the incredible work she'd performed during that time, Joe was desperately wishing he had let her go.

"I know you're upset, Brian. We all are; Colleen is one of our own, and we're taking this very personally. We're doing everything we can to have her home in time for Christmas. Please, go home, play with your son. He needs you to keep his environment as normal as possible right now."

Knowing that the scientist was right about his child's welfare, Brian stood to leave, but not before glaring and pointing his finger at the older man. "Promise me, you'll call the minute you know something. Promise me, Joe." Franklin nodded his agreement, and then sighed exasperatedly once the office door closed. Brian Nichols was a nice enough man, Colleen certainly loved him, but there was something about the guy that irritated him. Undoubtedly, this situation merely exacerbated it. Now, Joe had another possibly unpleasant task before him, one which might hold the utmost importance.

**December 22nd, Las Vegas Crime Lab**

"Dr. Grissom, does the phrase, 'She will know my pain,' mean anything to you?"

"No, should it?"

"We were hoping that it would. Colleen's kidnapper sent us a note today, from a small town on the Eastern Shore, which included that statement and a photo of her. No one here recalls anyone ever making a statement similar to that and nothing has turned up in any of her case files. I was hoping someone on your team may have heard a suspect or convict say it to her or send her something to that effect." CSI Franklin failed to mention the details of the photo of his subordinate and hoped this Dr. Grissom wouldn't detect any hints of his omission.

Grissom scratched his scalp through his graying wavy hair and pinched his eyes closed. Something in his long-term memory was trying to claw its way to the surface, but to no avail. If he could just grasp it in the forefront of his mind, caress it with his thoughts, speak it with his lips…but the event or moment remained elusive.

"My team is still sifting through Colleen's old files and compiling a list of potential suspects. I'll check in with them and get back to you soon." Gil cradled the handset on his shoulder for a moment, hoping to coax forward the memory that seemed to be digging a fresh grave in his mind. As he stared at the butterfly that was mounted and framed on the opposite wall, he silently encouraged the file cabinet inside his mind to open and retrieve the missing link he instinctively knew they desperately needed. For Colleen's sake, and for his own.

Suddenly, a knock on his door revealed a lovely young intern, with long dark hair, in possession of a note. Grissom's focus immediately blurred and readjusted in another room, another time, when his life was less confusing, less gut-wrenching, and more predictable.

_Kenneth Crimm sat at the black table in the interrogation room, his hands cuffed and lying before him. Slouching belayed his height and size, both of which were considerably more substantial than one would assume. Not that anyone would ever make an assumption in Grissom's presence._

"_So you see, Mr. Crimm, with your fingerprints at the scene and your DNA on the victim and in fresh condition at the time of her discovery, we can place you at her apartment on the day she died. Now, considering that neighbors heard Ms. Hayes arguing with a man in her apartment that night and saw a man of your description leaving within the timeframe the coroner pinpointed as her time of death, that pretty much makes you our number one suspect. Wanna tell us what happened that night?" Brass looked expectantly at the suspect, knowing deep inside that this gentleman, for want of a better term, was definitely the perpetrator._

"_Nothing happened. She was alive and smiling when I left her, happy as a clam. How many times do I have to tell you? Would you like me to spell it out for you? N-O-T-H-I-N-G H-A-P-P-E-N-E-D! Did that get it through your dense skull, officer? Where the hell is my lawyer, anyway?"_

_Grissom decided to take over for Brass and pushed the crime scene shots that Colleen Patterson had captured upon her arrival. Five photos of the victim, naked and lying spread-eagled on her bedroom floor, jumped from their pages. The gloss merely highlighted the blood splattered on her pale body, the carpet, bed, and walls. This was a brutal attack, a crime of passion committed by someone with an axe to grind. Two problems remained; the murder weapon had yet to be recovered and a witness saw another stranger, whose whereabouts could not be accounted, on the floor of the deceased's apartment that same night._

"_What do you want me to say? I didn't do her. Well I did, but not the way you think. It's a shame she's dead; we had fun together. But look, man, I gotta wife and kid, and I wouldn't do anything to screw that up. I was careful not to get caught. Do you really think I would kill Sasha and risk my life with them?"_

_Grissom observed the suspect carefully, noting that not a bead of sweat or a flush of color disturbed Kenneth Crimm's calm confidence. Either this guy didn't commit the crime, which the evidence did not suggest, or he wasn't going to break. Doubting that he misinterpreted the evidence, Gil felt his ire rising. With the missing knife, no bloody clothes, and the presence of the unknown visitor, there was a possibility that this scumbag might get off…_

_A tap on the door shook Grissom out of his reverie and propelled him across the room. Brass followed suit, curious about the interruption. In the anteroom on the other side, CSI1 Nichols sported a broad "cat that ate the canary" smile. _

"_You'll never guess what I found in the suspect's car! There was a secret compartment below the floorboard under the driver's seat. The seat was stuck earlier and we couldn't see anything, so we let it go. It kept gnawing at me, though, so I took the seat out completely and noticed a pull in the carpet." Her excitement considerable, Colleen took a deep breath while Grissom shifted impatiently and Brass raised a tired eyebrow._

"_Spill it, kid. I'm on my third shift and this perp is pissing me off."_

"_Sorry. Anyhow, under the carpet was a piece of ply wood, which was concealing a knife. A bloody knife with the suspect's fingerprints on it, to be precise. Warrick is checking with Doc Robbins about the wound pattern and DNA is already replicating the sample to see if it belongs to Sasha Hayes."_

_Grissom finally smiled at his blossoming protégé. Damn, she's good. Tenacious. Brilliant._

"_So, has he cracked, yet? Do we have him?" _

"_We do now, kid. Only he won't talk to us and he's lawyering up; however, it couldn't hurt if one of us kept him company until his paid bulldog arrives." Brass raised his eyebrows again, this time at Grissom, who nodded in return. "You want the honors, Patterson?"_

_Colleen looked like she'd just won that coveted, all expenses paid trip to a tropical paradise. "Sure. What do I do?"_

"_Make small talk with him. Remind him of his Mirandas, then be the sweet, charming, girl next door that you are and see where he leads you." Grissom ushered her to the door, but placed a hand on her shoulder before opening the door. "We'll be right here, watching. If you feel like you're in over your head, look at the two way mirror. If he tries anything, we'll be on him before he even gets to you, okay?"_

_Looking confident and assured, like the professional Grissom knew her to be, Colleen nodded and walked into the interrogation room. As she approached the table, Kenneth Crimm sized her up and smiled._

"_They send you to babysit me until my lawyer shows up?"_

"_Something like that, Mr. Crimm. You've been made aware of your rights, sir? You realize that you don't have to speak to me if you don't care to do so?"_

"_Yes, I have, miss…"_

"_Patterson. Colleen Patterson. Actually, I'm kind of new here. I just graduated from college last spring. It's a real shame about Ms. Hayes. She was a pretty woman and all of her neighbors said she was really sweet. Did you know her very long?"_

"_You could say that."_

"_Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss! And to be sitting here when you should be grieving…" Smart, Grissom thought, be respectful, play to his sympathies…win his trust…_

"_Tell that to those creeps who were just in here with me. They don't seem to get the message."_

"_Don't take it personally, sir; they're just trying to do right by Sasha. If they can give her justice, it kind of makes up for the horrible things that were done to her. As her friend, surely you want that, too." Placing her hands on the table, ever so close to Crimm's, Colleen plastered an innocent look on her face and gazed into his eyes. _

_Somewhere, the dam on his resolve began to crack under the pressure of his actions and started to leak. Brass must have known all along that her attractive face, comforting voice, and soft touch would bring this suspect down._

_Before they knew it, Crimm was opening himself up to CSI Patterson and describing how he stabbed and strangled his mistress in her apartment on the night she died. As soon as he finished his portrayal of the events that night and Grissom had completed the litany in writing, Brass charged into the room and informed the confessor that he was being formally charged with homicide. Crimm looked at Colleen, his face morphing from that of the betrayed to that of the enraged._

"_You little bitch! You trapped me! I swear to God, if I lose my family, if I lose my life, you will know my pain!" Brass started dragging him out of the room, other officers coming in to assist with his removal. "You will know my pain! Do you hear me!"_

_Shaken but proud, Colleen looked at Grissom for his approval. Its importance surprised her, but she needed to know that he felt the same pride in her performance that she did. _

"_Are you alright? That got a bit intense toward the end…" Grissom rested his hands on his student's shoulders and peered into her eyes, noting the mixture of emotions in her expression. At a loss for words, due to recent events and her superior's closeness and touch, she merely nodded and softly smiled._

_That night, Gil Grissom broke one of his steadfast rules: never date a co-worker. He collected Colleen at her apartment at seven o'clock, both of them taking a well-deserved night off to celebrate. She looked amazing and he was completely under her spell, unbeknownst to the young woman. He drove her to one of his favorite restaurants on Lake Meade, where they ate and drank overlooking the water on this warm late-autumn night. Another rule was broken that night as well: don't fall in love with one of your co-workers. It's dangerous on so many levels, as he would later learn._

"Dr. Grissom? Sir? Are you alright?" The young intern waved her hand and a file in front of his face, hoping to gain his attention and bring him back to the real world. It worked.

"Leave it on my desk," he barked, rushing from his office toward the conference room. The files were still in the conference room, being perused by Catherine and Warrick. Sara and Greg were using laptops they brought into the room and connected to the network, tracking down a list of possible suspects that they had all collected thus far through prison, parole and DMV records.

"There's only one file you need," Grissom blurted as he charged through the doorway. His eyes wild, his breath short, Sara felt her temperature rising as she absorbed his appearance. Something about his reactions in regard to this missing CSI struck her as, well, odd. Nick had been missing just last spring, and while the esteemed entomologist had been noticeably affected by that abduction, his response then was no where near as perturbed as compared to his behavior now. Actually, this conduct was usually reserved for cases involving crimes against children, and yet there was something in his eyes that said this was so much more deeply personal. For Sara, she had never seen him so fierce and zealous. It rattled her, professionally and privately. What did this mean for her?

"1995, suspicious circumstances, charge was second degree murder. Kenneth Crimm. He was convicted of killing his girlfriend during an argument. CSI Nichols' broke him down after Jim and I struck out in interrogation. He blamed her for his conviction. Find him. I don't care what you have to do. If we can find him, and I think we'll find her."


End file.
